You can call me Al
by Spryng
Summary: A brief snippet of Al's life at Hogwarts. Probably back in 1856.


The afternoon crept along the cobblestones of the courtyard, catching the students by surprise who had vacated their common rooms to come outside and study. End of the year exams were just a week away and more than one student had already cracked under the pressure. Monsieur Jacques, the healer on campus, was having a particularly hard time curing one female student's stress, which had left her shivering and mute.

Of course, there were always the few students on whom the stress seemed to have little effect.

"Eh, Al! Catch!"

A wad of paper nearly knocked off the glasses from a young third year's face. He glanced up from the book he was reading to shoot a half-hearted glare at his friend, Marcus, who grinned cheekily at him. The boy pushed his silver-rimmed glasses back into place and shook his head slowly, causing his long black hair to fall out of its loose ponytail and into his face. Annoyed, he flicked it back.

"I don't believe the week before exams is the time to be playing around, Mark," said Al.

"If not now, when?" Marcus asked. He brushed his brown hair out of his grey eyes and sauntered over, one hand stuck in the front pocket of his robes. "Besides, Al, you know you're going to ace those exams. You're the smartest kid in the whole school, which really irks the Ravenclaws, by the way." He winked.

Al blinked his icy blue eyes. "That doesn't mean I can pass a test without studying."

"You've already studied more than most of the Gryffindors combined," said Marcus. His hand lifted out of his pocket with something white sticking out between his fingers. "So here, an early end of term present." He dropped a crumbled piece of paper in the middle of Al's open book.

"What's this?"

"Just a present from a friend," said Marcus, grinning again.

Al gently picked it up and turned it over before unfolding it across his lap. It was a short note, written in curly girlish handwriting. He mumbled aloud as he read.

"Dearest Albus,

Please meet me at ten o'clock this evening outside of the Astronomy tower.

With my love,

Ara Black"

Al felt his stomach collapse inside him and something rather heavy hit against his chest. _Ara Black was asking to meet _him! Ara, the most beautiful girl in all of Hogwarts! Ara, the girl every boy sought to date and who snubbed every boy who tried! For a moment he tasted boundless ecstasy; for a moment he could have done anything that had ever been deemed impossible.

_ But why would _Ara _wish to meet _him? His mind came crashing back to reality. It was impossible. It had to be a hoax. The most popular girl in school wishing to meet the scraggly, egg-headed, effortlessly ignorable Albus Dumbledore?

Marcus read his features. "I swear it's not a hoax, Al. Would I do that to you? No, wait, don't answer that. Would I do that to you _at the end of the year_? Right before summer? When you wouldn't have the chance to get me back? Trust me Al, its real! Ara herself came up to me this morning and asked me to give you it!"

"But- "

"Trust me," said Marcus sincerely, placing one hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Just go tonight. I swear you'll never have a worry in the world after tonight."

Albus did not answer. He stared at the note stretched out across his book instead. Then, finally, he nodded.

* * *

Off in the far distance, Al could hear the school's clock chime twice, signaling the half hour. He sighed deeply, scuffing his boot against the wall. He had arrived outside the Astronomy tower at quarter till, his hopes high and his heart fluttering unsteadily. As the ten chimes echoed around the school outside, Al had feared he might have a heart attack by the way his heart was beating so quickly.

Now it had swung towards the other extremity and he half hoped his heart might stop altogether. So he had been right. Ara wanted nothing to do with him. The note had been a hoax. Al could not even feel anger towards Marcus, only a dismal depression at having fallen for it. Was he that desperate? No girl had ever shown an interest in him before, but that did not surprise him. What about him was there to love?

Al rubbed at his eyes angrily. _No_. He was not going to think about that. So his parents had never given him a second glance. It was always Aberforth, Aberforth, Aberforth. Aberforth was handsome. Aberforth was talented. Aberforth could play both Seeker and Beater simultaneously. Aberworth was going to be an Auror someday. Aberforth was only _eleven_.

Someone was talking further down the hallway, loud enough to knock him out of his self-pity. Al froze in place and unclenched his fists which he had unconsciously been hitting against the wall. He crept forward down the hallway, straining his ears. It sounded like a girl's voice. Could it be Ara? Was she coming after all? His heart sped up and Al suddenly felt warm in the darkness.

Now he could make out two girls' voices. They were whispering to one another, quickly, heatedly. He began to hope it was not Ara, for he could hardly stand the embarrassment if she brought someone along. The whispers cut off and Albus strained to hear footsteps, but none came. Instead, he could just barely make out a strange wet noise.

The voices had been coming from just around the next corner. Filled with curiosity, Al stuck his head around it. Albus had to bite his tongue hard to keep himself from crying out in pain.

There stood Ara, her beautiful pale features highlighted quite excruciatingly well in the torchlight. Her arms were around another girl. The two were quite obviously kissing and completely oblivious to the world. They did not notice Albus turn and run.

* * *

_ What the hell was that? _

Albus had only stopped running when he had burst out onto the castle's lawn and reached the edge of the lake. He sat on the shore, the lake lapping against his bare feet. It was windy and cold and dark, the half moon hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. His loose hair continually whipped against his face but he made no attempt to stop it.

How could Marcus have done that to him? Albus knew his friend had done that purposefully. He must have noticed the two girls one night and decided it would make a great joke to mess with Al. A tear escaped his shut eyes and ran alongside his nose. _Why_?

He shivered in the chill night air and hugged his thin robes closer to his body. His eyes opened on their own accord and stared out across the ebony waters of the lake before him. What it would be like to wade out into that, he wondered. What it would be like to tie a few rocks to his feet and dive. Down, down into the abyss and let all of his troubles float away. Nobody would notice. Nobody would care. If even Marcus would set him up for such a cruel joke, then nobody could ever possibly love him.

His hands drifted across the sand around him. He knew it was foolish thinking. Of course there would not be any rocks large enough. And where would he get anything to tie them with? Albus did not feel up to returning to the castle in search of rope. Perhaps he could just wade out and let the lake drown him.

Feeling as if he were trapped within a dream, Al stood up and stripped off his robe and shirt, leaving himself shivering with only his trousers on. He took a step forward, winced at the icy cold water, bit his lip in determination, and rushed out into the depths. Tiny needles of ice stabbed at his legs as he stood waist-deep in the water, clenching his fists. Then, with a deep breath, he threw himself face first into the lake and swam. He could barely feel his arms beating the water, as they grew number.

The shore disappeared from sight in the darkness. His feet no longer brushed against the sandy bottom, but Albus had no way for sure of determining how far out he had already swum. He began to feel fear brewing in his stomach, reaching its vile tendrils towards his chest. What was he doing out here? He did not _really _want to die, did he?

He started shivering uncontrollably. It was so damn _cold. _A breeze wafted over his wet hair and his brain felt numb. His limbs made sad circles in an attempt to keep him afloat; yet the water was tempting and warm now. Much warmer than the air. Warmer than his body, even. A haze filled his vision. Perhaps if he just let himself slip beneath the surface for a little bit, he would feel better. Besides, he was sleepy. So sleepy...

The lake closed without a sound over his head.

A moment later the water rippled angrily and then the head of something large burst the surface, a million tentacles rising up around it. In one of the tentacles was wrapped a limp boy. The monster glided towards the shore where it laid the boy gently on the sand. Another tentacle curled up around the boy's body and began pounding on his chest.

Albus coughed once, rolled over, and began vomiting water into the sand. When he finished he wiped his mouth blearily and looked up at the giant head looming over him. An eye the size of a dinner plate watched him carefully as he got to his feet. Albus swayed and nearly fell over but another tentacle reached out to steady him.

"Th-thanks," Albus managed to stammer out, trembling.

Another tentacle wrapped his robe around him. Albus smiled, grabbing the tentacle before it could snake away again and giving it a quick pat. He felt another tentacle abruptly wrap itself around him in what was unmistakably a hug. It released him and then gave him a gentle shove towards the castle. He hesitated, looking back at the creature and only then caught what it had drawn in the sand near his feet.

It was a heart.


End file.
